What a juxtaposition on Easter Monday: The programme widely derided as the end of public service broadcasting as we know it stages a sentimental farewell to an emblem of the golden age of old-fashioned quality television.
“Equine therapist” just doesn’t sound as good as “horse whisperer,” although that’s the term to describe Buck Brannaman’s specialty as a trainer of troubled horses. In fact, the subject of the lovely documentary Buck doesn’t even whisper: he talks into a microphone so that the rapt horse owners can watch and hear him magically fixing whatever ails their seemingly impossible horses.
There are two things sports fans love to hate, and the first is the epidemic of selfishness and greed: ball-hogging superstars who care only about their stats and their paychecks, teams that don’t play defense and don’t play like teams, owners with no commitment to winning and no sense of loyalty. Fortunately, the National Basketball Association has a team that defies those stereotypes.
If one place on earth has vanquished nature and stopped the clocks, it is Las Vegas. Built on land without water or any reliable resource apart from the blazing sun, the resort entombs visitors in the permanent, cool, jangling dusk of hotel casinos.